


And Probably A Hundred More

by writingaddictsanonymous



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Minor Stiles Stilinski/Malia Tate, Slow Dancing, Stiles & Malia get married, Wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 08:53:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9171946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingaddictsanonymous/pseuds/writingaddictsanonymous
Summary: Stiles and Malia get married. Their maid of honor is less than enamored with weddings, and their best man is just trying to get his point across.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you SO much to Lari for the idea, even if this maybe wasn't exactly what she had in mind when she said 'scydia + slow dancing'.

Lydia honestly hated weddings. She’d been to a dozen in a year, if she was estimating well at all. She bought gifts, she didn’t overdress, she laughed and clapped and cried when it was necessary. Maybe she was just burnt out. Over-weddinged. She should be _thrilled_ that Stiles and Malia, two of her best friends, were actually getting married. The key word, of course, was ‘should’. She loved them both, always had, but the ‘maid of honor’ title somehow made the entire wedding even more vomit-inducing, from the sunflower vases on the tables to the three, count ‘em, three, cake tastings. Malia’s meltdown that morning had really been the icing on the cake. She was on the bed, surrounded by a sea of chiffon, sobbing into one of the one hundred and seventy five (because there were one hundred and fifty guests and _God_ , Lydia, what if some of them were wrong?) commemorative handkerchiefs they’d ordered, embroidered with their initials and the wedding date and some kind of absurd little ‘love you forever’ sort of design. It was so ridiculous.  
They got through the wedding regardless. Through tearful vows and a brief stumble walking back down the aisle. The embarrassing dance she and Scott were forced into, as Maid of Honor and Best Man, to enter the reception room after cocktail hour. Noah’s toast, and Lydia’s. And Scott’s. They’d made it through Stiles and Malia’s first dance as a married couple. It was all very cute and sweet and traditional.  
Malia’s love of country music was a relatively recent discovery in the grand scheme of things, but Lydia didn’t mind it. What she did mind, however, was the propensity for country artists to twang on and on about their loved one in sappy, drawn-out ballads with solid drumbeats behind them. It was such a specific brand of romance that she honestly could not keep up with. Lydia had been there when Malia was building the playlist with Stiles, and when the acoustic version of Lee Brice’s “Hard to Love” was added, she couldn’t help but groan inwardly. Lydia was the definition of hard to love. She was difficult to please, she knew that. She liked to think it added to her charm.  
She had the same visceral response to the song when the first chords came through the heavy speakers in front of the DJ booth. Brice’s lyrics were so, so accurate, it was absolutely torturous. Lydia stood near the bar, sipping on a glass of Bushmills that, in her opinion, was at least two sizes too small, when she felt a hand on her shoulder, and her quick turn toward it simply revealed Scott, smiling at her in that easy, crooked kind of way he had. _I don’t deserve it_ played out as Lydia smiled back.  
“Hey, what’s up?” she asked, leaning lightly against the bar.  
“Come dance with me,” he said, leaving little room for question and holding up a hand, into which Lydia placed her own. She left her drink at their table and followed him to the dance floor, tucking herself in against his chest as Scott’s arm slipped around her waist, holding her close. She finally, finally let herself relax, letting go of a breath she felt like she’d been holding for months. The song was just ending, and Lydia knew what was coming before the line _Hey, pretty girl_ left the speakers. Scott’s hand around hers was a comforting weight, his chin against her forehead sort of grounding in an unexpected way, and it did feel so right. As she closed her eyes, Scott’s thumb pressed into the back of her hand, rubbing up and down against her skin as he turned them in a slow circle, not really caring to move himself or Lydia all that much. His hand on her back pressed her into a light sway, and Lydia opened her eyes to watch the soft blue chiffon of her skirt brush and flow against his pants.  
Lydia kind of understood now why Malia had put in a block of slow, easy songs in a row. When that one ended, she didn’t want to leave Scott’s arms just yet. With the singer’s voice, Scott’s hand began moving in a slow, easy rhythm up and down her back as the lights in the room darkened just a bit. It was getting late now; Lydia had a feeling Malia and Stiles had already stolen away, not to be seen until tomorrow’s brunch in the hotel’s dining room. Lydia let out a soft sigh, picking her head up a bit to look into Scott’s eyes. Her previously picture-perfect hairdo had come undone just enough that some of it was falling down her back, into her face, and when Scott leaned down just a little to press his forehead against hers, Lydia’s eyes closed again. For the first time all night, she felt herself smile naturally, and the hand on Scott’s shoulder crept around to rest against the back of his neck, fingertips brushing softly at the hair on the back of his head, cropped down short and close against his skin.  
“We’ve been spending so much time on them for months,” Scott said, and Lydia could feel him laughing before she even heard it.  
“You could say that again,” Lydia’s eyes only opened so Scott could see her roll them. “I am so tired of going to weddings.”  
“That have anything to do with the fact that they’re not your wedding?”  
“Hey. I’m happy for everyone whose wedding I go to.”  
“Oh, yeah, you’re just also a _little_ bitter,” Scott’s hand squeezed her waist, letting her know it was only a joke.  
“Okay, so maybe I wouldn’t mind being a bride instead of a bridesmaid for once. Is that such a crime?” she asked, a little exasperated. The dance floor had mostly cleared out now. People were starting to leave.  
“Not a crime. It’s a shame, though. That you haven’t been a bride yet.”  
“What’s that supposed to mean?”  
“You’re one of the best people I know, Lydia. You’re brilliant, beautiful, kind. You think of others, but you also follow your self-preservation instincts. You know what you want and you get it,” Scott said, and Lydia watched him lick his lip.  
“Yeah, well, I don’t know how to just go out and acquire a boyfriend, unfortunately. Until I can do that, I am sorely out of luck.”  
Scott was quiet for a few moments, and Lydia couldn’t help but cringe a little when she heard that one group that Malia had insisted on, but that she absolutely hated.  
“What if I took you out for dinner next week?” Scott asked quietly, picking his head up a little so that Lydia couldn’t quite look him in the eye.  
“Why would you want to do that?”  
“For every reason I already told you, and probably a hundred more.”  
Lydia hesitated, her hand stilling on the back of his neck. “I’d like that,” she said finally, leaning back a bit so that she could actually see his eyes. “I’d like that a lot, actually.”


End file.
